


Playing Games

by Eros94



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, DCU
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, F/M, Gore, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eros94/pseuds/Eros94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harleen Quinzel thinks it will be just another quiet nightshift in Arkham Asylum... boy, was she wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One, two...

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE take note of the tags! There are some implicated/suggested things in here that might make people uncomfortable, and I don't want anyone to read things that could be possibly triggering.
> 
> This work will have 3-4 chapters, and yes, there will be smut. But before we get to the fun part, I'm gonna make you work through the rest of this piece.

“Don’t overwork yourself, Harleen. We can’t afford you getting a burn-out because you rather be with the inmates than with your colleagues.” Doctor Hansen clapped a large hand on Harleen’s shoulder, sending her glasses almost half an inch down the bridge of her nose so she had to press them back up before she offered a smile.  
“Of course not, Mark. You know I just want to make sure everything’s going smoothly, even when we’re not around.”  
“Don’t let the crazy get you, girl. And this is the last evening shift you’re doing on your own for a while, too. It can’t be good for you to be here as much as you are, and I know it’s just because you’re passionate and all that, but it’s not _healthy_. I’ll be seeing you in five hours. Don’t break the place down.” A wave, a wink, and then the heavy doors of Arkham closed behind Mark, the sound resonating in the air and sending shivers down Harleen’s spine.

She loved Arkham Asylum, more than she should, but of all the places she’d ever been this felt the most like home. When she first got here, she’d never expected the place to mean so much to her. Harleen had come here for the Joker, after all – but by now most of the inmates knew her by name and she considered them friends. For as far as crazy people could be friends, of course. There was never a doubt in her mind that she’d be the first one to go if they ever broke out. That’s what she got for prying into their minds.  
Hair came loose from its tight ponytail, glasses pressed up on her nose (not that it left its place that easily, but it had become a habit) and with the soft click-tap of her high heels she started in the wing where they kept the minors. There weren’t a lot of them due to legal reasons, but the ones that ended up in Arkham had done things that most adult criminals couldn’t even dream of. It was quiet except for one cell, where the girl inside was sitting with her back against the bars, giggling softly at the shadows near the opposite wall.

“Hey Mary, do you have problems sleeping again?” Harleen knelt down, squeezing Mary’s shoulder encouragingly until she turned to look at her doctor. Mary was overall a very nice girl – when she was **Mary** , at least. During her early childhood she had developed a severe personality disorder due to the abuse by her father and uncle, and it had resulted in Miranda, an alternative personality. Miranda had taken over when she was 7, and she had brutally murdered her entire family (save for her sibling) during a camping weekend. Then Mary and her little brother Joseph disappeared into the woods, only to practically end up on Arkham’s doorstep.  
First they stayed there while the GCPD figured out where they came from… and when the camping site was found, the pair was instantly incarcerated. Further interviews brought out Miranda, who could only laugh and brag about what she’d done, though she was very particular about telling them her little brother was innocent.  
Joseph was adopted and still under surveillance just in case, but Mary had been here for 5 years already, and during that time Miranda had only manifested a few times during sessions mostly with dr. Hansen and dr. Chun. They were both stocky males, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why Miranda responded to them – they reminded her and Mary of the men who had made a mess of their lives.

“No, miss Harleen.” Mary’s voice was soft, almost childish for a 12-year-old girl, but that was usual. “They’ve been keeping me company, you see?” She gestured at the shadows, and Harleen caressed Mary’s cheek. There was nobody there, of course, but it was the only way for her of coping with things without Miranda.  
“Of course, I’m glad they’re there for you, Mary. Want me to get you some water? Then I’ll give you something to help you sleep. Sleep is important.”  
Mary nodded, then returned to her whispered conversations with her friends while Harleen fetched her a paper cup with water and a small, blue pill. When she got back, Mary was already sitting on the edge of her bed, plush bear in her lap and her small hands rubbing her eyes.  
“Here you go,” Harleen whispered, crouching by her patient and patiently waiting until the pill was gone and the cup empty. As gentle as a mother would be, she tucked Mary in, hand stroking her dark curls for a moment.  
“Everything good? Do you want me to stay here until you’re asleep?”  
“No, you have to go.”  
“Oh? And why is that, Mary?”  
Her brown eyes were almost black in the darkness when they looked Harleen up and down, and then Mary grinned widely.  
“Because **Mister J** wants to see you, miss Harleen.”  
Well, if that didn’t run Harleen’s blood cold instantly, she didn’t know what would. “He misses you, you know. He’s all alone.”  
“That’s because he’s a dangerous man, Mary. You know that. He has to be in isolation, you shouldn’t talk to him.” How Mary managed to talk to Joker was a complete and utter mystery, but Harleen didn’t think it to be impossible. Nothing was impossible for the Joker, after all, and Arkham was as close to a home he’d ever get. This was his kingdom, and the staff –especially Harleen- could try all they want, but that sort of power couldn’t just stop from one day on another.  
“But he _likes_ you, miss Harleen!” Mary hid her face under her blanket and giggled, and with a last mutter of ‘sleep tight’, Harleen retreated, those brown eyes watching her go until the cell door clicked shut. She’d talk about it with Mary later, when they were both in a calm state of mind, and Harleen didn’t feel like everyone was watching her every move.

It was quiet here at night. Children tended to sleep easier than most of the adult inmates, at least tonight, and Harleen felt like she needed that right now. Silence. Because already she was going over all the things that could go down when she reached Joker’s cell. And all of them were rather… unpleasant. He rarely had good intentions.  
She’d save his wing for last… just in case.  
Overall Arkham tended to sleep during quite normal hours, save for a few exceptions. A few inmates were briskly walking back and forth in their cells, and none of them really responded to her. They were too busy in their heads, overthinking, planning, nothing she could keep them from. Besides… nights in here were lonely. Here and there some inmates were whispering to each other, going quiet when Harleen passed, until suddenly an elder male slammed himself against the bars of his cell, breathing like he just ran a marathon. Harleen was next to him instantly, but he didn’t say anything – just pressed a folded bit of paper into her hand, then moved back into the furthest corner of his cage.

 _“one_  
            _two_  
                    _waiting for you”_

Joker sure made the game interesting tonight. The note ended up in her white coat’s pocket.


	2. Waiting for you...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And of course he knows where she'll be next.

The next wing was also asleep. Not a single sound, not even that of calm breathing. Just to check, Harleen kept still in front of a few cells, but all of them were just asleep and nothing worse. Inmates dying on her watch was never a favorite. At the end of this wing there was a door that led to the courtyard, but around the handle was a purple elastic hairband, keeping a small note in place. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up instantly, and she glanced over her shoulder, but of course the corridor was empty and quiet.

 _“three_  
            _four_  
                    _open the door”_

She did, of course, and it opened with a metallic creaking that echoed in the cellblock she left behind, and the courtyard was beautifully lit in the moonlight. Arkham wasn’t built to be pretty, but the location was admirable: at midnight the moon was right over them, bathing the building in its silver light. This was something she never saw, though. The courtyard was always cold and the wind spiraled down along the walls, creating a whistling sound that was extra creepy at night.  
Harleen’s eyes went up to the window in the top corner. Joker used to stay there before he went on permanent isolation. She blinked a few times, then continued on, crossing the courtyard to enter the next wing. It was a quicker way, but by the time she reached the other door, her teeth were chattering already, and her hair was being blown into all directions. This door was quieter because it was used more often. Low security, but here it was the opposite of calm. Everyone was screaming at each other, Harleen didn’t even know what it was all about, but some inmates were slamming their skulls into walls or the bars, others were gnawing on their blankets. This… was definitely not how they were left.

And then they noticed Harleen, and suddenly all the screaming turned into ‘DOCTOR QUINZEL IS HERE, SHE’S HERE!’, and everyone was plastered to their bars, arms reaching out for her. It left only a small space in the center for her to walk, but she did so carefully – usually she knew she could trust the people here, but… not when there was this mass-madness happening. It scared her, of course it did.  
She reached the end safely, and instantly the block went silent, save for the cell on her right. It was cell 0420, mister Ivanov, former sex offender and the only inmate who had ever laid his hands on Harleen, even if it had been only once and nothing particularly bad had happened. The guards had tranquilized him before he could do anything.  
Soft gurgling. Of course she had to look, she was the one who was supposed to keep these people safe and sane! Face pressed between bars, and in the darkness she could see the inmate sprawled on the floor in… a strange position. Legs bending into directions they shouldn’t, in places where they shouldn’t. Keys jingled when Harleen pulled them out, unlocking the cell door to rush over. He wasn’t dead yet, but with how much he was bleeding, that wouldn’t take long. His orange overalls were cut open right next to the plastic zipper, and in his chest someone had _carved_ something…  
It was a heart, arrow through it, like kids in middle school drew when they were in love with someone. H + J written inside it, and from the bloody mess that made up the plus sign stuck another bit of paper. How could he do this? How could any of this happen? Were the guards **sleeping**?!

 _“five_  
            _six_  
                  _nothing I can’t fix”_

He knew exactly what she was going to do before she did it, and it scared the hell out of her. He had killed an inmate already, he had talked to Mary –or Miranda- and that was never good, and he… he was out of his cell. No doubt. She reached for her beeper, contacting all the guard posts that they needed to come to this cell to clean this up and calm everyone down, and before she could even get up and leave the small space, they were already there, panting.  
“Doctor Quinzel! Are you okay?!” She waved their questions off, simply telling them to clean this up and check the entire building for unlocked cells.  
“This is the Joker’s doing, I’ll take care of it. Please just make sure nobody else got hurt or gets hurt, I’ll get a syringe ready to confront inmate 0801.” She felt calmer than she knew she should be feeling, but maybe it was just the adrenaline helping her to focus. Her breath was shallow as she made her way over to the drug room, finding the tranquilizer they always used for the Joker, specifically created for him – none of their regular drugs worked on him.

With the syringe ready, Harleen didn’t linger anymore, taking the quickest route to his cell. The door towards the isolation ward was locked like usual, but a small post-it stuck to the small window in it asked for her attention.

_“seven_  
            _eight_  
                  _you took the bait_  
_HAHAHAhaHAha” ___

Harleen growled softly, knew that she did take the goddamn bait – he’d played her like a fiddle and was no doubt having the time of his life knowing she did exactly as he predicted. He knew her too well, and she’d let him get to know her like that back of his hand. God, she was so stupid. Her stomach was in knots already, but she had to do this. She needed to finish this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter hit 100 reads quicker than expected, thank you guys!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He nasty.
> 
> It's gonna be a little bit of dub-con at the end, just a small warning. Manipulation happens.

The door came unlocked and she needed all her weight to push it open, and the moment she closed it again, all the inmates were shouting through the small openings in their doors. They were usually closed to avoid this sort of thing, but of course they weren’t tonight. Arkham Asylum was their playground now.

“Hey, Quinzel, welcome in the _loony bin_!”  
“Doc, you got something against the heebie jeebies?”  
“Quinzel, I got an _itch_ you gotta scratch!”  
“Think she found the body? She did! She did!”

It was utter chaos, and Harleen felt lost. This chaos could linger here for days, weeks, depending on how she’d respond. They could probably smell the fear on her, could see the way her hand with the syringe trembled while she walked down the corridor, heading for the door with Joker’s number on it. That door was also locked. The key went in, and the second it turned, the voices grew even louder, shouting things that Harleen would probably never repeat again or would even ever write down. Obscenities that referenced to the inmates’ pasts and sick minds and desires, and Harleen almost _fled_ into the padded cell she’d come for.  
Joker sat in the corner, in his straitjacket, grinning like he’d just won the jackpot, and the door fell shut behind Harleen, the lock clicking shut, and it was suddenly so silent that her own heartbeat seemed so loud she was sure Joker could hear it. And she also noticed that her cheeks were wet – she was crying.

“Hey doc. Havin’ a rough night, huh?” He was pleased with himself, shrugging in his jacket. “I’d hug ya, but as ya can see, I’m a lil’ bit _stuck_.” And the syringe fell to the ground just like Harleen to her knees, shuffling over to him before she flung her arms around his neck, sobbing into the white cotton on his shoulder. He was the one to cause all this, the one who made such a terrible mess of everything just for shits and giggles, but Harleen had no idea what else to do. She could tranquilize him, but he was the only one to whom she could show how scared she was. It disgusted her, she didn’t want to depend on him, not like this.  
But she _did_. She was lovesick, obviously, too infatuated with the one person nobody should ever fall in love with. It was the attraction of the forbidden, knowing that he was bad, but that made him exciting. And for someone like Harleen, who’d witnessed the glamour of men of his nature in her father, it was familiar and adventurous. Maybe not something she necessarily wanted for herself, but she couldn’t get herself to deny it either.  
The heart wanted what the heart wanted.

“Harl _eeeeeeen_ …” A soft purr into her hair, and she knew he was going to say something that would make her hate him because he would be right. He could see everything she was thinking as if it was written across her face, as obvious as could be – or he simply made her think the way he wanted to. He was good at that.  
“Harleen, you’re such a pretty doll when you cry, you’re gonna show me your face, aren’t ya? Make me a happy man, baby. C’mon.” A nudge with his shoulder, and Harleen leaned away, her mascara drawing black lines on her cheeks. She could feel herself shaking, coming down from the adrenaline high that had surged through her veins only moments before, and she would have given anything for Joker to have held her face in his hands, the rough pads of his thumbs gliding along her cheeks so he could suckle the salt of her tears off of them. But instead he just stared at her with those cool, grey eyes. _Pleased_ , that for sure.  
“So you got my message? Not too **over the top** , was it?” Metal teeth glistened in the white light, clicking together. “Thought ya’d like it. The heart was a real pain, man kept wrigglin’ around! Thought I’d never get that done for ya, baby.” Harleen was speechless, vision still blurred with tears, and her stomach was twisting painfully. She wouldn’t throw up; she never did no matter the situation. But she was close.  
“But now you’re _here_ , and I’m pretty sure that the Arkham errand boys are still busy scraping Alex’ flesh from the floor, so we’ve got aaaall the time in the world, doctor. Why don’t ya sit down and _relax_ , a lil’ _closer_ , and then we’ll have a nice… long… **chat**?” His tongue glided over his teeth, a predator preparing to dine, and then he made soft, kissy sounds, like he was luring a puppy to come over for a cuddle. “C’mere. C’mere, Harley. Be a good girl and sit in daddy’s lap, yes? Come on, come on, _c’mon, c’mon_ …” He swayed from side to side, voice sweet as honey, and burst into loud cackling when Harleen actually did as he coaxed her to do, the poor girl lost to his charms and manipulation.  
Arms looped around his neck, cheek pressed against his, and then she was tucked against him, sniffling softly.

“Ya know, I only did it because I _missed_ ya, Harls. Can’t have my girl bored on her only night alone, can I? What kind of lover would I be if I didn’t keep ya entertained?” It made perfect sense for him, just a means to an end, the end being to have Harleen there with him. He didn’t feel remorse like she would have, like she did – she was responsible for this disastrous evening, wasn’t she?  
“Okay, okay. Harls, babygirl, ya think you did it. That’s how ya work. And, well, this ain’t gonna look nice on ya resume, ain’t it?” His nose caressed along her temple, and she could feel his grin growing. **Oh no.**  
“So I have a proposition for ya, baby. I can make all of these things disappear from yer slate, clean as a fuckin’ newborn, baby, but then you gotta do somethin’ _nice_ for me in return. Just a small favor, you’ll like it jus’ as much as I will. How does that sound, doc?” He shifted, shoulders shuffling lower against the padded wall behind him so he could sit more relaxed. “So here’s what ya gotta do, babygirl. Ya gonna undo those awful straps down there and be real nice ta me. I get real lonely down here, and not even the errand boys will do a decent job anymore, ya know? A man’s got needs, baby, and ya know there ain’t no other who works me like _you_ do.  
Or ya can take the blame and, ya know, see your career do an _**Ivanov.**_ ” Another cackle, and Harleen sat across his lap like a statue, frozen in place.

Eyes wandered off to the syringe still laying on the floor, the glass unbroken thanks to the padded ground, and… no, she couldn’t do it. She should. She really should. 


	4. Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get down and dirty, kids.
> 
> I was going to make this an extra long one, but I know a bunch of you will tune out after the sexy times... (no worries, I totally understand) Soooooo instead an extra chapter will be a thing!

****“Don’t start hesitatin’ now, babygirl.” No more softness, but a demanding tone that immediately had her meeting gazes with Joker. “You don’t wanna make me angry now, do ya?” He was restrained, in his straitjacket that was made to hold patients who were a gazillion times heavier and stronger and more rabid than Joker was, yet goosebumps crept up the back of Harleen’s neck, staring at those pinpoint pupils. Then his face split open in his signature grin, and he wiggled from side to side, back to purring. Joker knew that being angry and demanding wouldn’t do the trick here, in this situation.  
“Hike up yer skirt a little bit, Harley o’mine, give daddy some _fun_ time while you’re sittin’ there anyway. What harm’s it gonna do? Gonna make you feel _good_? Ya know that I can make ya feel _**really** _ good, Harls, I’m sure ya didn’t forget.”

The ridiculousness of the situation was confusing. She was still in the middle of processing all the horrors of the past hour, and she was also realizing all of these terrible things had happened over the course of just one hour. A quick glance at her watch proved that. _48 minutes_ since Mark left. _48 minutes_ into her possibly last solo night shift and she’d seen an inmate die after he was beaten until several bones had given out, she'd seen the isolation ward unattended and a literal nuthouse where isolation was disregarded, and the 49 th minute in and she was sitting in the most infamous criminal of all’s lap, who was suggesting a quickie just for the sake of getting off for the first time since who-knows-when.  
Crazy? **Hell yeah**. She’d done a lot of night shifts alone, but never one that was this turbulent. She was just hoping that none of this would ever see the light of day; Arkham could do without more bad publicity.

“What’s it gonna be, doc? Ya gonna sit there and contemplate the meanin’ of life, are ya gonna leave yer honey hangin’, or will ya be my sweet Harleen? The _darlin’_ who likes goin’ to town when I’m out of this place?” Lips pursed and he made more of those kissy sounds, successfully snapping Harleen out of her thoughts. Blue eyes bright behind glasses, there was only a single second more of unsureness, and then she reached for his jacket, nimble fingers clicking open the clip of his crotch strap, and Joker’s pale eyes widened smugly. His little doll, how could she ever resist?  
And she didn’t even wait, hands on her thighs to get her skirt up until it bundled up on her hips. Harleen didn’t even know _why_ she did it at this point. The dead body of Alexei Ivanov could be taken care of, Arkham had become very skilled at sweeping things under the carpet. Sure, there would be reports that he’d died, but they would state an accidental overdose of ordinary prescription medication, or maybe a suicide attempt. But inside Arkham they would know, and this could possibly haunt Harleen forever. She knew Joker had the inexplicable power to live up to his words and make sure this **never** ended up on her account.  
Abiding by his rules for a couple of minutes was a small price for that. It wasn’t even their first time.

“There we go…” She was too good to him. Doing as he told her to, even if she could end this entire situation by getting up and leaving. He wouldn’t blame her, Joker made no illusions about whether he was fair, or if Harleen deserved everything he shoved her way. She came to Arkham fairly innocent for his opinion, and he was the biggest factor in dragging her down the rabbit hole. She wasn’t getting out of _**Wonderland** _ anytime soon, if it was up to him. Not before he wanted her out.  
He let his head fall back against the padded wall when one of Harleen’s dainty hands slipped under the elastic waistband of his sweatpants, an occasional soft _‘oooh’_ egging her on. Joker was always a little bit cold to the touch, and sitting in a forgotten hole of Arkham didn’t help much. It wasn’t cold enough to make your knees shake or your breath cloud, but it was just enough to make sleeping uncomfortable, make your toes look a little blue in the pale lights. And Harleen, his willing little fox, oh, she was warm. Hot. Almost burning his crotch with her touch. But she was gentle like Joker was made of porcelain, even if she knew damn well that he was the opposite.  
“Oh, Harley, _Harley_ , _**Harley**_ , sweet honey…” Even a small mewl to top it off, and then he pushed himself off the wall, knees pressing against Harleen’s behind as a counterweight, until he was close enough to kiss her. She smelled good. Like spring. “Aren’t you a good girl tonight, hmmm? Rev me up and I’ll show you one hell of a time!” A wide grin, and he could see the blush rushing to her cheeks. It gave him satisfaction to see he could give that effect even if her head was still reeling from the violence he caused all around her, **FOR** her, and yes, it even earned her a press of lips to hers. It was half her touch and half the power he had over her at that moment, but soon enough Joker was purring and sighing, teeth bared, his whispers deep and gravelly and words increasingly lewder in nature the quicker Harleen moved her hand – until he growled for her to stop, which prompted his girl to pull her hand away instantly. So obedient.  
“C’mon, baby.” Kissy sounds again. They worked so _well_ for her, didn’t they? “Closer, closer, closer. Closer. Little bit more. Look at you bein’ all _hot_ ‘n’ _heavy_ for me, hm? I can almost taste it. Sweet like a peach, that’s my girl. Now up, use your hands…” Not that she needed the directions: she knew damn well how to handle a cock, his little harlot Harleen. But those blue eyes were almost shy, not meeting his gaze as she shuffled into place and pulled his Arkham sweatpants and annoyingly ugly briefs out of the way to give him the freedom he deserved, making Joker sigh. She was thankfully not too shy to give it a nice little peek and tease, metallic teeth showing as he grinned. Sweet doctor, more curious and dirty than she wanted to admit, staring at him like he was a gift from God. He _was_ , but, you know. He stayed _**humble**_.

Harleen pushed her hair back, twisting it a few times so it would stay out of the way, all careful as she made her move, panties tugged to the side, lips making a small ‘o’ shape. Sure, _officially_ there were no records of her relationship with Joker, and they liked to keep it that way, but that didn’t mean Harleen wasn’t loyal. She had an active social life, even a few admirers, but it wouldn’t even occur to her to hook up with anyone – Joker was very real, very much the one she had devoted herself to. She wasn’t single, she was taken.  
And god, when she felt him pressing against her, _into_ her… she had to bite her lip in order to keep quiet, her forehead touching Joker’s as she slowly lowered herself, watching his eyes roll back before she tucked her face against his shoulder, panting softly. The last inch was covered by a sudden, rough shove of Joker’s hips, and he groaned out loud against her ear, the sound strained, bitten into the air with a click of his teeth. Harleen was shuddering, one hand on the side of Joker’s neck, the other one holding on to the cotton sleeve that disappeared behind his back. Oh god, _she’d missed this_.


	5. What a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say I like writing Joker's inner monologue... More down & dirty.

“Ya never cease to amaze, baby.” Joker was breathless, probably not for long, but he was at least enjoying himself. “Nobody got a good pussy like yours. Sweet ‘n’ soft, like a **kitten**. But _better_. And _wetter_.” Had they been anywhere else, she would’ve told him to stop saying those things. Harleen was a proper lady, didn’t like all the garbage Joker purred into her skin at any given time, not even when she was still delirious after the orgasm-truck had hit her full-on and he was biting those soft inner thighs she had. No, Harleen wanted to hear sweet nothings, ridiculous shit that Joker would never even dream of in a nightmare, but would spew them anyway when he wanted something from her. But unfortunately for her, that garbage? Got her wetter than a kiddie pool. Best part about her, if you asked Joker.  
“Ya gonna sit still now? What are you, a cocksleeve? Gimme somethin’ here, doc, before I blow my load and we miss out on all the _**fun**_.” Heels pressed into the floor to underline his statement with a thrust, causing Harleen to yelp into his neck, but it got the result he aimed for: nails dug into the back of his neck, parted lips against his collar, and she moved. _Boy_ , did she move. Like she was born for it. Joker had no doubt that she was, but at least she had other good qualities. _Nice eyes_ or something. Smart mouth.  
“That’s my girl right there… Ya can do that a bit quicker, can ya? Just a tad. Get up further, I want ya to feel _all_ of it, baby.” He could feel her teeth digging into his collar, even catching a bit of skin, but that just added to his pleasure, really. Such a good girl, following his directions like they were the ten commandments. Usually, in a setting much different from an Arkham cushion box, he could last quite long. Control over one’s mind meant control over one’s body, and he was awfully good at it. Made him an excellent lover, like Harleen had confirmed plenty of times, but when you went a few months without a nice girl to wrap around your cock, things got… _messy_. Quickly.

He went rigid after barely five rolls of Harleen’s hips, and she knew what that meant, tucking herself in close and peppering kisses along his throat along with little lovebites. “Feels good.” _**Finally.**_ Finally, she gave a bit of feedback, and it had Joker cackling, laughing out loud while he throbbed and ached, not in the least worrying about that nonsense people spouted nowadays about ‘safe sex’. Condoms were for _losers_ , anyway. Who in their _right mind_ had one of those on them in an insane asylum? Harleen probably had some in her bag, but she was special.  
“Of course it does, little harlot. Ya missed me, ya missed my dick, my humble _candy cane_ – I’d miss me too. But ya made up for a lot, so I’ll let ya off the hook a little bit… ya get to keep yer panties. Get off’a me, you’ll get it all over my pants.”

Harleen stumbled back, tidying herself up, her cheeks bright red and her hands quickly fixing her underwear and skirt, glasses pressed back up on her nose where they’d completely lost their course. She was ready to fetch the syringe she dropped and flee the scene of the crime, but thankfully Joker cleared his throat, and she quickly returned to his side to gingerly tuck him back into his sweatpants and underwear. “I’ll… I’ll go see what’s going on with mister Ivanov,” she muttered, pecking a quick kiss to Joker’s cheek, who rolled his eyes annoyingly, and then she picked up the syringe again, keeping her eyes on her lover until the door closed behind her.

Once out in the corridor it was silent. The isolation ward was now completely quiet, but all the small open windows were occupied by the inmates staring at her as the door behind her clicked into the lock. Harleen peeked over her shoulder, quickly shutting the window on Joker’s door, and she immediately knew what the others were smirking at. They had been listening in on them.  
“If any of you says anything, I have a syringe with shit you really don’t want in your bloodstream if you want to _live_.” It was a weak threat, but nonetheless all of them kept quiet while she closed their windows one by one, ignoring the grins and suggestively wiggling eyebrows. The door to the ward was locked behind her again, hands smoothing down her skirt as Harleen rushed back to where the last guard was mopping up Ivanov’s cell. It almost looked like nothing had happened, save for the red stains on the cot’s mattress, and the other guards were out of sight. That was her next priority: see if any of them had been keeping an eye on the security cams scattered through the facility… including those in the isolation cells.

When she arrived in the video room, there was nobody there. That was a small relief, but in the top corner the screen flashed over to Joker’s cell, and he was standing in the center of his padded box, swinging the loose crotch strap back and forth like he was having the greatest fun. A stupid _rush job_ , Harleen. She wasn’t going back to fix it. On the other screens she could see the guards doing their rounds, and estimating the time they needed to get from this room to where they were, Harleen released a relieved breath she’d been holding – chances that any of them had been watching were extremely small.

* * *

The rest of the night she holed up in her office, letting the guards bring her a mug of coffee every now and then, and none of them gave her weird looks – that was all she need to know they were wonderfully oblivious about what had gone down in cell 0801. For four hours she immerged herself in the task of putting all the patients on alphabetical order in the file cabinets. Ridiculous that nobody’d done that before, if you asked her, but at least it was more orderly now.

* * *

“Harleen Quinzel, most dedicated member of the Arkham Asylum staff, and you’re hiding in your office!” Mark threw the door of the office open at 4 AM, all smiles and seemingly well-rested. “I heard about the news, that must have been a true **horror**!” Coat was hung over a hanger, bag dropped onto the floor, and he circled the desk to wrap his thick arms around Harleen as she got up from her office chair, and it felt so nice that someone offered comfort that she instantly responded to the hug, sighing with relief.  
“Don’t worry about it, Harleen. We’re taking care of it. Can’t have that kind of blemish on your career.”  
The words didn’t… sound right. Not like something Mark would say, wise Mark who was all for justice and fairness, even if that meant she’d have a red mark behind her name.  
“Say that again?” She tried to pull out of the hug, but he wasn’t letting go. _Not yet._  
“What I’m saying, Harleen, is that you and I and our _**mutual friend**_ all know you had no idea about what happened here tonight. Five nightly hours without a psychiatrist on-site is not unusual for Arkham. You have nothing to worry about.” Finally he released her from his grip, still smiling his warm Mark-smile that always promised that better times were ahead. His hand sneaked into the breastpocket of his white coat, and a small tape appeared, hand-signed by Joker. She knew that signature everywhere.  
“I won’t tell if you won’t.” Realization dawned on what was probably on that tape, and Harleen blanched behind her glasses. “It’s the only copy, of course. Won’t even be in the asylum’s archives. No harm done, Harleen. You see, your Mister J needs more _privileges_ outside of his cell, I’m sure you agree that 24/7 in that place would drive everyone crazy. It was just a simple trade. _**This** _ -“ He waved the tape. “- in exchange for a _**weekly visit to the courtyard**_ for a fresh breath of air.” Suddenly his friendly smile didn’t seem so friendly anymore.  
“Mark, I-“ He cut her off before she could finish. “Deal is done, this is staying between us. _Scout’s honor_. If you don’t mind, I need to get to work now. Go home, have some hours of sleep. You had a very… eventful night.”

Not that she managed to get even a moment of sleep that night. But when she returned to Arkham, it all felt like it had been an awful dream. All the evidence was gone, Ivanov’s cell was empty but clean, the wing that had been suffering mass madness the night before was quiet, and Mark didn’t behave any differently from usual. It made her doubt herself, until she went to take a quick peek in the isolation ward, and Joker was sitting on the floor exactly across from the door, legs wide to display the crotch-strap that still nobody had fixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thank you to everyone who read this, it means a lot to me. Can't even begin to think that this one started out as another one-shot until it spiraled a bit out of control...  
> I'll probably definitely write more, so feel free to send in any suggestions/ideas for one-shots and other things!  
> Love you guys!!


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